Matchmaker
by Kay8
Summary: Sturgis plays matchmaker for Harm....
1. Part 1

**Summary: Sturgis plays matchmaker for Harm.  
Rating: PG-13 for language and...sexual innuendos?  
Note: This'll be a quick little story, maybe three or four parts. It should be updated pretty quickly, too. **

Sturgis knocks. I look up to the open door and wave him in, returning my attention to my reading. I've been doing well at procrastinating again. 

"Hey, you busy tonight?" he asks. 

"Uh...no," I say, glancing up briefly, then rereading what I just skimmed. Damn. My attention span must be nonexistent. I start reading again, slower this time, when Sturgis speaks up.

"Then you can go to dinner with Bobbi and I." By this time, reading is pointless. I slam the book shut (a little too forcefully, because Sturgis gives me a wary look) and toss it onto my desk. 

"You and Bobbi still....?"

"Yeah, we are, and we want to take you to dinner." 

I narrow my eyes at him. Somewhere, behind that smart face and composed look is a cunning and devious man. "Why?"

Sturgis snorts, rather unattractively. "We're going to propose to you. Harm, c'mon, can you go or not?"

"Look, no offense," I start, "but I don't want to be the third wheel here." 

"You won't be. I've got a friend from St. Louis flying in this afternoon."

I sigh. What else is there to say? I guess I could break my leg going down the stairs, but that's too much hassle. I could get sick, but that's too obvious. I'm stuck. At least I won't be stuck alone. "Yeah, I'll go."

"Good," Sturgis says, brightening noticeably. "We'll come by your house around seven." And he disappears. 

A nice six hours later, I'm sitting alone on my couch, looking like an utter idiot dressed in khakis and a new shirt from my mother. Of course, since I've just admitted that I got the shirt from my mother, my idiocy triples. Yeah, well here I am, sitting on a couch, waiting for my friends to pick me up. Not to worry. I'm sure I look dashing sitting here on the couch...all alone...

The doorbell rings and I saunter over, not in any particular hurry. I open the door to Sturgis. "Ready?"

I nod. There's no way I'm going to tell Sturgis that I was getting ready only five minutes before, suddenly remembering I was to go to dinner. I lock the door behind us and we hurry down the drafty stairs and out the door. Sturgis' car is parked on the curb, and I can make out Bobbi in the front seat, laughing openly at something. Then I remember Sturgis' friend. 

"So what's your friend do?" I ask, still a good distance from the car. 

"She dances."

I swing my head around. Dancer? _She_? Whoa, can we backtrack? Okay, so I was under the impression that Sturgis has all male friends beside those at JAG. That was stupid of me, I agree. The dancer part....well, I like dancers. I open the back door and slide in. Through the overhead light I can make out her pale face. It's framed by a mass of curly red hair. 

"Harm?" she asks, smiling. "I'm Diane Flaggery."

"Nice to meet you, Diane," I reply. 

"So, Harm, I haven't seen you in a while," Bobbi says, twisting in her seat to try and look around the chair. 

"Been busy."

"Oh," Diane says, "do you work with Sturgis?"

"Sometimes with him, sometimes against him." Sturgis chuckles at that. "Sturgis tells me you dance?"

"Yeah, at the St. Louis Ballet Company. I started five years ago, and it's been just _marvelous_. We still going to Batzi's?" The last question was directed to the front seat. I hold my breath; Batzi's is a great restaurant, but the main theme of it is dancing. I can dance, don't get me wrong. I can dance very well indeed. I just don't care for dancing tonight...and especially not with a professional dancer. Sturgis is not only cunning and devious, but also very cruel. Does he know how much Mac will make fun of me?

"Batzi's it is," Sturgis says, giving me a look through the rearview mirror. I hate the man. 

We pull into the brightly lit parking lot. From the outside, someone would think of it as a truck stop. But Batzi's insides are stunning. The tables are all pushed to one side of the huge room. There are about ten booths, each tucked away in a private little nook. On the left of the room is a stage where some unrecognizable people play fairly good music. People mill around the dance floor, sometimes dancing, sometimes taking a drink of something. 

Of course, we get a private little nook. I try to slide in with Sturgis, but Bobbi gets there before me. I sit next to Diane, who's wiggling in her seat, already itching to dance. I wonder what would happen if _her_ legs were broken. It's almost too loud to talk, but the other three attempt while I glance around at the other people there. Old couples, younger couples...I feel strangely out of place. 

Sturgis offers to dance with Bobbi during a slow, drawn out song right before we order. I swear the man winked at me as he walked away.

"Oh, this song is great. It's sort of weird to go to places like this and hear regular music. Oh, cause you know, I'm a dancer to classical. It can get rather dull after a while. Especially with our head. She's a wonderful dancer, but she's got an ego the size of a stadium, and not to mention the fact that she hates me. At least I get paid!"

I force a laugh. Time for damage control. So, having no other choice and being the courteous and sensitive man I am, I offer to dance with Diane. She agrees readily, sobered up by the slower music. We push through the mass of people and find a relatively empty part of the floor. 

She slips her right hand into my left, and I put my hand on her waist. Rather smoothly, too. We sway to some old song. Diane starts chattering about something that doesn't interest me, but I listen in anyway. I smile and nod in the right places. At least I think I do, because she keeps going. 

"Harm?" 

I snap out of my trance. Diane looks up at me. "Are you home?" she asks. 

No. Actually, I'm far away, dreaming of a beach. "Definitely. I just need a drink. Want anything?"

"Think they have Sprite here?"

Nope. No Sprite. There's no Sprite anywhere in the world. "I'll ask." I slide through people dancing and reach the bar. The bar tender looks at me, and I order water and, reluctantly, a Sprite. Sturgis appears at my elbow. 

"Looks like you and Diane hit it off."

Sturgis, where have you _been_? "She's friendly." And talkative. And not nearly as funny as Mac. 

"What do you think of her?"

I give Sturgis a look. "She's nice."

"She likes Navy men."

Well then go and dance with her yourself. And suddenly it dawns on me. "Sturgis," I growl, "tell me you're not setting me up with her."

"What?"

"You're playing matchmaker."

"No."

"Bobbi's making you play matchmaker."

He hesitates. "No. Harm, I just thought you'd like companionship."

"I would have settled for a guy who likes to talk about football and not the finer points of ballet."

"Harm."

"Sturgis."

"Harm, I know you're lonely."

"Really? Well look, thanks but no thanks." I take a deep drink of my water. 

"I know," Sturgis says quietly, "I know she's not Mac, but try and like her."

I choke on my water. "What the hell does this have to do with Mac?"

"Nothing, if you don't want it to."

"What...what's that supposed to mean?"

Sturgis raises his eyebrows, then slides off the stool and disappears into the crowd. I still hate that man. 

*

The elevator dings and I step off, tired and gloomy. Diane is not someone who cheers you up or keeps you interested. My mood is further spoiled by Harriet, who bounces over and hands me a creamy envelope. I flip it over: S.W.A.K.

"What's swak mean?"

Harriet smiles, her eyes glitter. "Sealed with a kiss," she whispers. My eyebrows, I'm sure, disappear into my hair. Harriet obviously wants me to open it here, but I've got a sneaky suspicion as to who it's from, so I hurry off to my office. Of course, I manage to bump in Sturgis, who snatches the envelope and examines it quickly. 

"Swak?"

Sealed with a kick. "Sealed with a kiss," I say, averting my eyes. He's going to laugh. 

He doesn't, and I look up. He grins at me. "Told you Diane was worth your time."

I laugh dryly. "Yeah, whoever seals letters with kisses deserves my time!"

And, having my luck, Mac strolls by at that exact moment. "I should seal my letters that way, too," she tosses over her shoulder. Sturgis and I stare at her as she walks away, dumbfounded. I'm telling myself _not_ to take that the wrong way. 

Although, I don't think I would mind getting S.W.A.K letters from _Mac._

*

Sturgis watches as Harm walks away, then grins and starts to head off his own way. Harriet gets to him first, though, and stops him in the middle of the bullpen. She looks at him, bursting with happiness. "Who's it from?"

"The letter? The Commander's new friend."

"_Female_ friend?"

"Yes," Sturgis, his voice dragging out the word.

"Did you find this friend for him?" Harriet asks, now sounding a bit worried. "Are you playing matchmaker?"

Sturgis shrugs. "Yes."

"Do you think that's wise, sir? You know that the Commander and the Colonel...." Harriet stops and looks around as if they would both appear with daggers at any moment. "Aren't you hurting him more by doing this, sir?"

"That's the beauty of it all," Sturgis says. "This is just the thing they need."

**Very sorry for grammatical and spelling mistakes. A cookie for those who review.**


	2. Part 2

**Behold, the end....**

I've been sitting in my office for fifteen minutes, itching to know who sent him the letter. I've gotten up three times to walk into his office, but my legs fail and I sit back down, once again to start drumming my fingers. Incessantly. I make up my mind to go and ask - seriously, this time - who the letter is from, but Harm beats me to it. 

"Mac?"

I look up, already knowing it's Harm. "Hmm?"

"You okay?" he asks slowly. 

I force a smile. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I was just asking. Do you wanna catch some lunch later?"

Somebody must really hate me. I wave my hands to above my desk, indicating the mess of papers. "I'll be going hungry today," I say. A shame, too, because I have a hankering for burger.

"I'll help you."

I look up at him. It'd be nice, but he _can't_ do that. "Harm, you're not on my case."

"I can be." He grins, leaning on the doorframe. 

"Harm-"  


"C'mon, Mac. I'm not gonna get thrown out for it."

I waver. Maybe he's right. "All right."

"I'll be back in a minute," he says.

"Good...oh, by the way," I say, plunging ahead. "Who's that letter from?"

Harm grins, but there's a hint of something else in his eyes. "From a friend."

"Some friend."

His eyebrows wiggle. "I'll say," he says mysteriously. And he walks away, leaving me even more puzzled than before. I hate it when I'm the loser. 

It's amazing how much more productive I am in the afternoons. Granted, I have the company of a rather good-looking sailor by my side. I look at him out of the corner of my eyes; his chest lifts and lowers with his breath and his brow furrows with thought. He glances up to look for something on my desk, and I quickly look back down at my file. 

"Where's that list of witness - oh, got it," Harm says, grabbing stapled sheets. 

"Did you find someone else?" I ask, peering over his shoulder while I subtly admire his scent and warmth. 

"Yeah...Lieutenant Amos Flint. Supposedly talked to your man an hour before he went on his flight." 

That's nice, can you lean over this way a little? "What are you going to say if the Admiral comes in?" I ask.

"I don't have anything else to work on...for once. I haven't been on the Admiral's good side lately." 

"Have you ever been?" says a new voice from the doorway. I make a new speed record scooting away from Harm. The woman at the door is pale with gorgeous red curls. She smirks at us and saunters in a bit, leaning herself against the door. She's a toothpick. I bet she had a cracker for lunch....and the other half for breakfast. 

"Diane," Harm says, shooting up and practically hopping over the desk. 

"Howdy," she replies, and hugs him. Harm places his arms around her gingerly, glancing at me. I plaster a mild look on my face. "Thought I'd drop by."

"Oh, er, that's good. Diane Flaggery, this is my friend, Colonel MacKenzie." I notice, with glee, that Diane looks me over nervously. 

"Nice to meet you," I say automatically. She nods, the directs her attention back to Harm. 

"Did you get my letter?"

Oh, sailor boy, you are so busted. And he obviously realizes this, too, because he turns a little so that I cannot see his face. "Yeah," he says, his voice tight. "Look, can we go talk in my office?"

"Oh, of course. Wasn't last night grand?" she babbles as they walk away. I can hear her voice carry across the bullpen. "The music could've been a bit more modern, but music is music, right? I was _so_ exhausted....."

I will _not_ be jealous. 

*

C'mon Harm, pick up the phone. I've been calling him for ages. And this is my third time at the phone. One more ring and I think I'll bash the phone into his head. Where is he? He said he'd be home, and now he's not? 

I put down the phone, knowing exactly what he's doing. He's with his Toothpick. _His_ Toothpick. I shiver and wrap my arms around myself. After the fiasco with Mic and Renee, things have been hard for me. Things like this. It's not as if I cannot get myself a date. That's not what I'm after; I don't want a random guy for a random date. I want a certain guy, who happens to be out of my grasp. Like a cookie jar on the top shelf, he's out of bounds, too far above me. 

I also happen to be going insane. I hadn't expected to go to work that morning and have my heart wrenched out. It's painful. I'm insanely jealous. I'm so jealous that my chest hurts at the thought and it feels as if a brick is sitting in my head. This feeling had been absent for such a long time. And now it's back again.

I reach out for the phone when suddenly it rings, making me jump. It's kind of like when you're toasting something - you only jump three feet in the air when you're staring directly at the toaster. I grab the receiver after the second ring and click it on. "Hello?"

"Ma'am?"

I roll my eyes and smile wanly. "It's _Mac_, Harriet."

"Of course - Mac. Listen, I was wondering if you wanted to come over for a bit this Saturday. Unless you've got other plans...."

I laugh. Me? Plans? The two words have not been used together recently. "Sure I'll come. Who else is coming?" I ask casually. 

"Oh, you know," Harriet says, chuckling, "the gang. Sturgis, the Admiral, Harm -"

"And...Diane?" I cringe - could I be more obvious? 

"If she wants." I can see her smile from this side of the phone. "So you'll be here around seven, ma'am?"

I don't bother correcting her. "I'll be there." I listen to the empty line for a moment, rather dreading the fact that Harm will be there with his Barbie. 

*

Quite suddenly I'm overpowered by some scent. _Diane's_ scent. It carries from the bathroom all the way to the kitchen. Damn, I'm going to need a gas mask. And the windows will be down on the way to Harriet's. I take another whiff of the air. Mac never wears that much. 

Thinking of Mac, I remember that she'll be at Harriet's. Which is good, because I'll need to get away from Diane. And her Scent of Death. I check myself in the mirror, flicking a piece of lint off my sweater. Diane emerges from the bathroom, looking rather attractive. She's got her hair piled somehow so that it falls down her neck. Amazing. How do women _do_ that? 

Diane smiles at me and slides over, wrapping her arms around my waist. I look down at her red head. She's taking our...thing...quickly. "Ready to go?" I ask, leaning away from her to grab my keys. 

"Mmm, hmm," she says, her eyes sort of glazed over. Diane lets go of my waist and follows me out the door. 

Twenty minutes later we're standing on Harriet's porch. Laughter and chat can be heard from within. I ring the doorbell, and not too long after Harriet opens the door. "Commander! I didn't think you were coming!"

I smile, partly at Harriet and partly at Mac, who just stepped over. "He's always late."

"I'm fashionably late," I reply. Harriet opens the door wider for Diane and I to step in. Diane greets Harriet while I sidle over to Mac. Compared to Diane, I can't smell her from where I stand. Being a Rabb and lacking most common sense when it comes to social talk, I search for something to say. Unfortunately, my mind is blank. "Is Little AJ here?"

"No," Mac says, "he's with a babysitter." She gives me a sidelong glance. I grin at her, then ask if she's seen Sturgis. She points off to the kitchen area and I leave her to find him. By this time, Diane is in the corner or my mind. Sturgis is leaning against the counter, talking to Bud and sipping a glass of wine. I lean over next to him, trying not to interrupt. 

"Hey Harm," Sturgis says when he finishes his conversation with Bud. 

"Hey," I reply. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Sturgis frowns slightly. "Sure," he says, slowly, dragging the word on his tongue. We step away from the counter and edge to the corner. "What's up?"

"Diane."

"You brought her here?"

"I didn't have a choice," I snapped. "Not to sound rude-" and here Sturgis gives me an incredulous look, "-but when is she leaving?"

"Next weekend."

I sigh with relief, but then Sturgis adds, "She'll be visiting once every week. She has meetings with the Ballet Company of D.C."

I swear under my breath. Sturgis gives me a grin, then sways away. I glower after him. What an evil and sly man. He should wear a sign warning people, before someone gets hurt by his insane ideas. The madman. 

For the next half hour, I mingle with people, occasionally having Diane attached to me. At one point we gather around the living room to listen to idle chatter. Diane starts off when the Admiral asks her what she does. With her by my side, I listen to the babble of dance talk. I would have been interested if it had not been for Mac. 

She stands across from me, leaning against the window pane. Her eyes are directed at Diane, but her thoughts aren't. I don't know how I know this. Perhaps after being friends for so long, we've come to the point where we can read each others' faces. For instance, Mac's is drawn, and her lips are pushed out slightly. Her facade has slipped, showing a bit of the emotion below. 

Now her eyes travel across the faces in the room, retracting their attention from Diane. Not that I blame her. She watches as Sturgis places his hand on Bobbi's shoulder. Then she looks at the Admiral and Meredith, sitting comfortably on the couch. Then Bud and Harriet. And I suddenly know what she's thinking. 

We're the loners of the group. I look to my right, glancing over Diane, then look back at Mac. Her gaze is on me, intense and yet empty. I can't read it; her facade is back up again. Suddenly she slips around the couch and leaves the room quietly, so that no one but me notices. I lean over to Diane. "I'll be back - need a drink." She nods and continues talking, not the least perturbed. 

I follow Mac's footsteps, but she's no where in sight. I wander into the kitchen and still no Mac. Then I notice that the back porch has the light on, and in a shadow of that light is the figure of my Marine. I smirk at my own thoughts as I walk out into the sultry spring air. She stands on the bottom stair, her head tilted back to the heavens. Diane is no match for Mac in terms of appearance. Mac is just beautiful naturally. 

I walk up behind her quietly, even though I know she heard me open the door. "Feeling like a fish on land?"

Her body shakes with a slight chuckle. "How'd you know?" she asks, softly. 

"A lucky guess. I feel the same way."

Mac spins to face me, her brown eyes wide. "You've got Diane?"

I shake my head, wondering how Mac brings light upon things I hadn't noticed or felt. "Diane means nothing to me."

"Then why are you tormenting her like that?"

"Tormenting?" I sputter. 

"She's head-over-heels in love with you, Harm!" 

I gape at Mac. Diane? In love with me? That is the most absurd thing I've heard, but I don't tell Mac, because Mac's usually right when it comes to that sort of thing. I sigh and look outward. "Well then I'll stop it."

"You'll stop love?" Mac says, laughing. "That's not easy."

And suddenly, I have no idea what I was thinking with Diane. I never should have seen her after that one night. I should have told her off about the letter and booted her away from my office the following morning. I shouldn't have brought her here, where she's caused more trouble than happiness. Right now I want Diane as far from me as possible. 

And Mac as close to me as possible. I look her dead on in her eyes. "No, it's not easy." If I screw this up, too, I think I'll be the world's biggest failure. We've been waiting for seven years, pulling and pushing the other. I think that's enough pushing. I take a step closer, closing some of the distance between us. 

"Harm...."

"Diane's not who I'm interested in."

Mac rolls her eyes. "Did you lose your ability to say 'no' when she came to you?"

"No," I repeat, and we both smile. Her smile is wonderful and brilliant. "I couldn't shake her off, Mac."

She opens her mouth to protest and scold me some more, but I place my finger on her lips, effectively shutting her up. "Let's not argue about it now. I'm not letting you make me mess this up again." Mac's lips twitch as she smiles slightly. 

"I'm not about to let you mess this up, either."

"You-"

"Harm," she interrupts. 

"Yeah?"

"Shut up," she says, and bends my head down. We kiss, but unlike the other times we've collided, Mac and I kiss without the fear of telling secrets. Her arms wrap around my neck and I pull her closer, never wanting her to let go. I push her into me, needing her, not being able to hold her all at once. What seems like minutes is over in a few moments, but it's enough. 

"You should go tell Diane, before she finds out." Mac's eyes sparkle with what I hope is delight. 

Maybe Diane was helpful, after all. 

*

Back in the living room, the talk has died and each is left to do whatever he or she pleases. Sturgis catches Harriet by the arm and pulls her to a window. He grins, catlike, and says, "And you had doubts?"

"Doubts?" Harriet asks, puzzled. Sturgis, still grinning, points to the widow and toward the dimly lit back porch. There Harriet catches sight of something she probably shouldn't have, laughs, and draws the blinds. "You think they'll thank you at their wedding?"

Sturgis laughs, too. "They'd better."

**Oh, many, many sorrys to pass out. I rushed the end terribly, but I had a sort of writer's block for this particular story, and I didn't have enough time, and I really needed to get it out! So, once again, my apologies, but I hope you enjoyed this small ficlet nonetheless. There were many problems with it (characterization, plot, etc), and yet you stuck it out. Congrats. Also, sorry to all dancers who were offended. I myself am a dancer, and didn't find it offensive, but I meant no harm. Thank you to _all_ who reviewed; I ended up making more cookies than I thought. **

**Stay around for another fic that invaded my thoughts when I was in the process of finishing this one up. Gah! Plot bunnies!**

**(_Brownies_ this time, for those who review. ^_^ )**


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